Worthless
by drunkdragon
Summary: Severa relates more to the near-worthless things they carry than she would like to. Owain thinks otherwise.


**_Worthless_**

"Oh, but don't you see how effective it is at bashing things? It must have a bonus point in the barbarian skill tree!"

A frustrated sigh escaped Severa for the ninth time. Her mother stated that there were too many people assigned to the kitchen that day and decided to put her to work in the weapons tent to take inventory and determine what needed replacing. She didn't enjoy being shoved around by her mother, but at the same time, it was true.

"That doesn't change the fact that it's a stupid ladle, Owain. It belongs in the kitchen."

She had not been told that she would be working with the man. Grasping the handle, she pulled it out of his grasp and put it aside to be brought to the cooking tent later. Having just finished keeping track of the axes they had in stock, she started to look at the spears.

"… If I recall, isn't it your turn to help with dinner tonight?"

She huffed. "Yes."

"So if it's your turn," Owain started slowly, carefully, thoughtfully, as if he had just come to realize it, "shouldn't you get back in the kitchen?"

"I got kicked out."

"What? Preposterous!" he cried out. "Why, my spoon hand tingles at the thought of the meals you make, as they are by far on the fairer side compared to many others in the camp! Take Kjelle, for example! She might be one of the best fighters of our time, but she couldn't Falcon Punch her way out of a bag of flour if her life depended on it."

"We have Cherche, Olivia, Stahl, and my mother on kitchen duty tonight," she bluntly said.

She could almost hear Owain deflating as she shuffled some spears around. "Oh."

Spotting something unusual, she pushed the spears aside until she could clearly see it. "Is this a log? This shouldn't even be in here! Gods, it's like whoever was putting this place together wanted to give me a hard time."

Owain remained silent while she shifted the spears around some more. "Gods, I can't believe how dull and bent this lance is! Who would even carry this trash into battle? Worthless!"

She pulled it out planning to place it alongside the ladle, but she felt Owain's hand taking a gentle hold of her wrist. "Just because it looks worthless doesn't mean it actually is."

"Oh yeah?" she jerked her hand free, being careful to keep the tip away from the two of them before angrily staring him in the eye. "Tell me how this lance is worth anything and maybe I'll reconsider not chopping off your sword hand."

"Well, what is the lance made of?" a wide smile was growing on his face.

She took a close look before answering. "Steel. Why?"

"Steel might not match up to the sheen of other sturdier metals, but would you deny the fact that it pierces what bronze and iron cannot?"

She took a breath before answering. "No."

"Then all it needs is a quick sharpening and it will always be stronger than its bronze and iron brethren."

"Did I also mention that it's horribly bent?" she curtly replied.

This time it was his turn to heave a sigh. "I concede," he gave up, shrugging his shoulders a little, "It should be sold as scrap metal. The point still stands though, so to speak."

Turning away, she placed the steel lance separate from the rest of the weapons to pawn it to a blacksmith who needed the material.

"You're worth more than you think, Severa."

She felt herself freeze before her instincts took over. Owain always did have a way of embarrassing her. "Hmph," she tried to ignore the rising blush in her cheeks. "Did Inigo teach you that line?" Looking over, she meant to give him a harsh glare, but she found that he had already returned to taking stock of the swords, his head turned away from her.

Scoffing, he drew out a blade and examined it before putting it back in the rack. "Oh, please, as if I need to learn something from Inigo in regards to women. He can hardly hold hands with the ones that take a liking to him."

Severa decided to challenge him one last time. "So if you're putting my cooking prowess at the level of steel, where does that put Kjelle?"

"Oh, probably the same type of quality as this Level One Branch of Beating." He pulled it out and started to look it over. "That doesn't mean we can't fashion a training sword out of it, however."

* * *

A/N: I had a bit of a challenge with this fic. For some reason it was difficulty coming up with how the scene would play out. After figuring out the general lines, though, the rest of the story fell into place and turned out nicely. I was also originally going to have the two married already, but that felt like cheating so I left the relationship status somewhat ambiguous. I also entertained the idea of Owain seducing Severa in the tent right then and there, but decided to keep it clean in the end... for now(?).

Also, get back in the kitchen meme.

Naturally, I do not own Fire Emblem.

As usual, I greatly appreciate all comments and criticisms.


End file.
